


Soft to My Edges

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Image, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fat Shaming, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: A customer makes an unkind remark to Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 287





	Soft to My Edges

Crowley shook out his jacket and hat before hanging them on the coat rack by the door, allowing said door to close noisily behind him.

“Aziraphale!”

There was a faint call from the back of the bookshop.

“If I were my husband,” Crowley kicked off his boots and continued to call as he made his way through the maze of books and collected treasures, “where would I be?”

“Back here, I said!” Aziraphale had gone for waspish, but had laughed on last word.

Crowley found him on one end of the sofa, tartan blanket over his lap and cup of cocoa held in both hands. There was a large leather-bound book beside him with a bookmark placed gingerly somewhere about the middle.

“Done for the day, then?” Crowley stood over him, hands on his hips, “it's barely noon.”

“Barely close enough to closing. Too many customers today. Three! I had three try to buy my books!”

“You don't say?” He watched as Aziraphale took a deep sip of his drink and then set it aside.

“That's three too many.”

“But what if there's one more needy customer?”

“Oh, no! Was someone waiting at the door? You didn't let them in. I put up the closed sign!” Aziraphale was working himself up to a real lather and he started sputtering when Crowley climbed into his lap, sitting back with his knees on either side of the angel's thighs. “There's no customer at the door is there?”

“No,” Crowley's smirk tried to stay put, really it did, but it gave way to a soft smile against it's will, “but there's one in your backroom. That's where the good stuff is right? Wouldn't want him to make off with something important!”

“You're incorrigible.”

“You like it.” Crowley leaned closer, pressing himself against Aziraphale, curling to nuzzle his face into his neck. He felt the moment Aziraphale went stiff and pulled away. Panic zinged through his chest and he jerked back. “Or maybe not? You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Do you want me to go? Some time to yourself? I could go-”

“No! No, I don't want you to go, dearest. Please.” Hands stroked up Crowley's sides to prove the words.

“Then...”

“It's just... I wonder...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away. 

“Suspense is gonna kill me, here. What could you wonder that would offend me, hmm?” Crowley slipped a finger under Aziraphale's chin and lifted his face as he slipped his glasses off and set them on top of the book beside them. “I fell for wondering.”

“It's just... I'm soft.”

“True.” Crowley stroked a finger along his cheek, enjoying the soft give there.

“Well, about the middle. And, really, everywhere else.”

“Also true.” Crowley was trying to focus. He was trying really hard, but he'd been thinking about nuzzling kisses into Aziraphale's neck the whole way over and, well, he'd never been the best at focusing on other things once he was fixated. Aziraphale huffed, clearly frustrated that he was going to have to spell this out.

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Crowley, really!” That did come out snippy and Crowley sat back further. 

“Do I mind if you're soft?”

“Yes!”

“About the middle?” Crowley trailed on hand down the middle of Aziraphale's chest and rested it gently on the swell of his middle.

“Yes.” His voice was hushed and maybe a bit sad.

“'course I don't mind.” Crowley's thumb had taken up stroking the top of his belly of it's own accord.

“Really?”

“Nuh,” Crowley tried to collect his thoughts- flighty buggers, always abandoning him when he needed them- and cleared his throat, “It's just... it's all you. Why would I mind?”

“Well, I did close kind of abruptly today.”

“Uh huh.”

“And there was one customer still shopping.”

“Uh oh.”

“So, I asked him if he'd kindly leave.”

“And?”

“He...” Aziraphale dithered a moment, his hands clenching and unclenching at Crowley's hips (which did nothing to help Crowley gather his wildly scrambling thoughts), “he muttered something about me as he left.”

“Do you want me to find him?”

“What? No!”

“I could. I could find him and make him pay.”

“Crowley, really.” His face had gone all fussy which made Crowley smile and in turn made Aziraphale smile for a moment before it faded.

“What did he say?”

“Well, now I'm afraid to tell you.”

“I won't hurt him.”

“You won't go and find him.”

Crowley made a noise.

“Promise me.”

“Depends on what he said.”

“Promise me, please.”

“Fine, Angel. I promise. Tell me?”

“He called me a 'fat bastard.'”

“But, you are a fat bastard.” Crowley watched a look of hurt flash through Aziraphale's eyes and mentally kicked himself, “No. Nuh, no. Look, it's. The thing is.”

“Gabriel thought so, too...” Aziraphale's lip had started to wibble and Crowley's thoughts all gathered back in his brain just in time to start to panic.

“I LIKE IT OKAY?” He gathered Aziraphale's face in his hands and squeezed gently, meeting his eyes, “I like that you're a fat bastard.”

“But it's, it's not a kind phrase.”

“You're very soft about the middle, and everywhere. I know because I love to snuggle against you at every opportunity. You know this.”

“Yes.”

“I like that you give around all my sharp edges. I like how you're warm and comfortable. It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh.”

“And you are a bastard.”

“Hey!”

“Well, it's true. Shutting the store down abruptly before lunchtime. That's a bastardly thing to do.”

“But my hours are listed-”

“You keep bastardly hours.”

“Hmmph.”

“I like your bastardly ways. They're endearing.”

“But-”

“So, sorry. You are a fat bastard. Only, you're my fat bastard and I love you for it.”

“Oh.”

“Now, can I snuggle my fat bastard husband?”

“Let me think about it.”

“Okay, you think about it,” Crowley made to get out of his lap, “I'm gonna go have a word with Gabriel.”

“Don't you dare!” Aziraphale tried to pull him back, but Crowley pulled away with equal force.

“No promises for Gabriel's safety!” Crowley tugged, “I'm going to teach him to mess with my fat bastard husband.”

“Please! Be reasonable!” Aziraphale tugged once more with more force and Crowley abruptly let up, collapsing back against him.

“Much better,” Crowley nuzzled his nose under Aziraphale's chin and kissed him there.

“You're a bastard, too, you know.” Again, he went for stern but it came out a little breathy.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

“Must be made for one another. That poor customer will have to find himself another angel to-” he never did get to finish his comment as Aziraphale gave him a better use for both their tongues.


End file.
